Of Owls and Cats and New Beginnings
by Janie-ohio
Summary: Draco Malfoy just wants to redecorate Grimmauld Place before he moves in. Harry just wants Draco to stop asking questions he's not ready to answer. This story takes place at a turning point in their relationship, as Draco learns about Harry's past, and Harry learns how far Draco is willing to go to help him heal. Canon child abuse by Dursley family is discussed. April 2005.


**Author's Note:** This is a part of a larger series, _That's Life Together. _Like all the stories in my series, it can be read and understood without reading the rest. To orient you in the series timeline, this takes place in the first week of April 2005, approximately seven months after _Untapped Power_ and _Fallout, _and two weeks before _Harry and Ted's Excellent Adventures_. Remember to check my Author Profile for a complete list of the series in chronological order.

* * *

**Of Owls and Cats and New Beginnings**

Despite the recent improvements to the neighbourhood, the exterior of 12 Grimmauld Place was much as it ever was. Hidden from the eyes of most, Muggle and Magical alike, the old Black residence had an aura of malice about it.

Harry had refurbished inside the house, but he claimed there was no point in touching the exterior since people couldn't see it anyway. Most of his friends travelled by Floo, and if someone did see it, the exterior would persuade them that perhaps they'd best not approach. Draco was pretty sure Harry would be a recluse if he were allowed, as he preferred to live quietly and with little interruption. It was just another reminder of how much he'd misjudged his motivations when they were in school.

Draco juggled some paper cups into one hand and reached for the doorknob, then nearly tripped as something ran under his feet. He pushed the door open and did something he absolutely abhorred. He yelled. In. The. House.

"What the fuck? Potter? Where did this cat come from?"

Forcing his way past the cat, who was apparently trying to kill him by tangling around his legs, Draco pushed inside the door and set the drinks on the entry table below where Harry had said once hung a screaming painting of his Great Aunt Walburga. Thank Merlin he'd missed out on that treat.

"Yelling indoors, now? Are you okay?" Harry asked as he came into the hall with a smirk.

"No, I did not _yell_, Potter." Yes, he had yelled, but he wouldn't admit to it. "I merely inquired as to the presence of that _creature _on your front stoop. She tried to kill me!"

"Creature?" Harry looked confused, then peeked out the front.

"Oh, the cat. I'm not sure where she came from, but she won't leave. She's been coming around for the last week or so, and she always looks so hungry."

Draco scoffed. "Have you been feeding it, you twat? What is it with you and feeding strays? If you feed them, they'll just keep hanging around, looking for more."

Something flashed in Harry's eyes, but it passed quickly enough that Draco couldn't be sure he'd ever seen it.

"I don't like to see anything hungry. I have food. I fed it. Let it go." And with that, Harry turned and stalked down the hall towards the kitchen.

Draco pushed down his irritation, then sat on the entryway chair to wait; he didn't want to have to remove his shoes for the short time he was waiting. They'd just refinished the floors the previous month, and he was not going to scuff them already.

Draco looked around at the work they'd done together on the entryway. It had been the last item on Harry's list of refurbishments, and the first he did with Draco, which is probably why it looked like it had some class with its cool colours and tasteful decor. Harry had been working on the house room by room since after the war, so almost seven years. He worked on weekends and holidays, first around Auror training, then around assignments and during time off, but his idea of refurbishing missed the mark, to Draco's mind.

They were going to fix that, though. He had a plan. A plan that required Harry to get a move on, because they had some shopping to do to enact said plan.

Just as Draco was about to give up and go find him, Harry came back with his jacket on, ready to go. He noticed the drinks on the table and smiled.

"Coffee? Excellent." Harry picked up the untouched cup and took a drink with a contented sigh.

"Of course, and made to your preferences. Malfoys are quite attentive to our loved ones; didn't I tell you that before?"

"Oh, maybe once or twice. Seriously, thank you. All right, ready to go? Let's get this over with."

"Just wait a moment." Draco gave Harry a once-over, then brushed the wrinkles out of Harry's sleeves, talking as he made the necessary adjustments.

"Honestly, Harry. I've already done all the hard work. I've picked out several pieces for each of the major rooms, as well as a couple of alternatives. All you have to do is pick between them and you're done. Tell me which is more comfortable. The rest is all taken care of."

He moved on to the hair, which barely looked combed. He glared at it as he continued. "Look, you promised if I moved in, we could do this. So you're going to go with no bitching, and we're going to make this house look like people with taste live here."

He sighed, then reminded himself who he was dealing with; Harry was a Gryffindor with Hufflepuff tendencies. _Right_. A different approach was necessary.

"Harry," he said in a sweeter voice. "I know you don't care, but I want it to be our _home_, not just the house in which we both live."

Harry turned to look at him, eyes smiling and a teasing smirk on his stupidly attractive face. "Draco Malfoy, are you turning romantic on me?" He leaned in to give Draco a soft kiss. "Okay, fine, let's do this. Just don't ask me about any art, promise?"

Draco pushed down the thrill of winning the argument and getting his way, then cleared his throat stoically. "Fine, whatever. But no complaints when I don't bring home any tasteless paintings of dogs smoking cigars."

Harry chuckled and turned to open the door, and that damned cat ran through his legs, into the house and up the stairs. Harry turned to look at Draco hopefully.

Draco shook his head. "No, we are not going after it right now. We're _going_. We'll get it later. I just hope it doesn't piss all over everything." And with that, he closed the door behind them.

* * *

The shopping excursion Draco had planned spanned six shops in various places throughout London, both magical and non-magical. The first wasn't far from Grimmauld Place, so they would begin there.

As they walked, Draco thought about the previous three weeks he'd spent planning. After Harry had asked him to move in with him, Draco had quickly assessed the house and negotiated. No matter how much sense it made logistically, a Slytherin did not just accept a proposal of this magnitude without getting something extra out of it. In this case, it benefited them both; Harry just didn't know it yet. Which is why he needed _him_, of course. And after a rather intense "negotiation" (that may have included some rather personal added incentives), Draco got his way and began to plan.

He knew he'd have to approach this correctly. The key to shopping with Harry was to have him make as few choices as possible. Harry clearly wasn't raised to appreciate the better things in life—childhood secrets that he still wasn't privy to, evidently—and he seemed to get overwhelmed and irritable when presented with too many choices.

It was funny because Harry Potter was one of the most decisive people Draco knew in regards to what actions to take, what was right or wrong, or even just what gifts to give a friend, but if you asked him to decide what _he_ wanted or what _he_ preferred, Harry got indecisive and bad-tempered. So he just had to be handled appropriately. With _skill._

They approached the first shop, a Muggle boutique with which Draco had fallen just a little bit in love. They threw their drink cups into a nearby bin, and Harry took a deep breath.

"Okay, let's do this."

"Harry, it's furniture shopping, not the Inquisition. Seriously."

Draco opened the door and stepped into the shop, practically dragging Harry with him. "Hello, Olivia. It's lovely to see you again."

"Draco, welcome! And this must be Harry. It's good to meet you, Harry. Draco has told me all about you, and I can't wait to show you what we have prepared. Right this way."

Harry just looked bemused as he was ushered through the shop. Olivia had all the selections ready and, in barely more than an hour, Harry had easily picked his favourites from each of the options, selecting almost three rooms worth of furniture chosen. Draco had already arranged the payment and delivery details, so when they were done, it was simple and sweet. With a quick farewell, they were ready to move on to the next shop. It had taken less than ninety minutes.

As they walked toward the nearby Apparition point, Harry just looked at Draco in awe. Draco did his best not to gloat.

"Draco." Harry seemed to be having a hard time putting his thoughts into words, so Draco just gave him time. It was hard to keep his tongue and not to snark at the man to just spit it out, but when that happened, Draco reminded himself of the most important conversation he'd ever had with Harry. He could still hear Harry in his head, sitting at that booth in the pub all those months ago. _You love the other person for who they are, and you accept them whole-heartedly... you don't pick at them for mistakes, and you don't berate them or make them feel less. Instead, you support them, and lift them up, and push them to change to be what they want themselves to be. _And Draco did love Harry, so instead of snarking, he waited while the man fought to find what he wanted to say.

After several moments, Harry went on. "I can't believe you did all this. That was unbelievable. The amount of work you put into this today is amazing. _Thank you_. Everything you had ready was perfect, and I can't tell you how much it means to me."

Draco's couldn't help it this time. He preened, and he knew it. If there was one thing he liked better than praise, it was appreciation. It was one of his favourite things about dating Harry, his willingness to show his appreciation.

"You're welcome. I'm glad you've come to recognise my vast intellect and skill. Come on, we'll be late for the next stop."

And with that, he grabbed Harry's hand and Apparated them both across London to his next planned location, grinning at the apparent success of his plan.

* * *

Hours later, Harry was clearly done. Standing on the pavement on a busy street in Mayfair, Harry looked decidedly ready to snap. Draco watched Harry, hands running through his hair and feet nervously tapping as they waited to cross traffic, and belatedly realized they probably should have stopped two hours earlier and finished another day. Thinking quickly, Draco remembered that food was often the solution when Harry was close to the edge.

"Dinner? Those chips from lunch were good, but I'm hungry. Any thoughts on food?"

Relieved, Harry looked around for the closest restaurant. He appeared as though he was ready to collapse and was ready to just eat at whatever restaurant looked edible.

"There. Is that Indian food? That sounds perfect." Harry pointed across the avenue to green lettering on the front of an old building.

Generally, Indian food was not Draco's favourite, but it smelled good as they got closer, with spices and something else he couldn't identify. He looked at the smile on Harry's face as he looked on, and decided it was a good choice.

"Sure, let's try it. Somewhere new, right? Come on."

The restaurant was quaint, with old hardwood floors, Indian tapestries and art along the walls, beads hanging sporadically from the ceiling, and patterned cushions serving as backrests on the benches. Draco looked over at Harry as they were seated and put in their drink orders. He couldn't help but laugh at the look of awe on his boyfriend's face.

"This place is amazing. I hope the food is as good as it smells."

They looked through their menu, and after getting some recommendations from the server, put in their order. Sipping at their wine, they quietly chatted about their day, slowly relaxing.

"So, we got through all the shops, and everything should be delivered this week in the mornings. You survived. Congratulations."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Right. George promised me he'd be at Grimmauld in the mornings each day. I only had to promise to work for him for two Saturdays next month; he's going to advertise that I'll be there." He shook his head in amusement. "Honestly, you'd think after all this time, people would be over the draw of getting to have me check out their purchases at a joke shop."

"The Chosen One ringing up their chosen items. Amazing," Draco drawled.

"Sod-off," Harry laughed. "You know I hate this stuff. Anyway, when we're done here, do you have anywhere else you wanted to stop? I wanted to go by the post office and post an owl to my solicitor."

"Right. Not a problem. No more stops for me, but a quiet walk together after dinner would be lovely. It's a beautiful evening."

Harry smiled and nodded in agreement. "It would," he murmured.

As they ate their dinner, they quietly sat, enjoying the unique flavours, music, and ambience for a while in the way couples that are comfortable in each other's company often do. Thinking about Harry's previous statements, Draco's mind kept spinning around something he'd wondered about for a while but hadn't thought to ask.

"Harry, I don't mind stopping to send off an owl, but why haven't you gotten your own yet?" Draco watched Harry shift uncomfortably, but continued anyway. "I know you said you lost your school owl the summer after… well, you lost her back then, but it's been over seven years."

Harry stayed quiet, so Draco continued, irritated at the lack of response. They'd long ago decided they could talk about uncomfortable subjects, and this was overall pretty benign, so he pushed further. "Potter, that's a _long _time. I've been able to use my mother's owl, so I haven't gotten one myself, but you obviously have need of an owl. What's the problem? It seems like a ridiculous oversight, even for you."

Harry's voice was quiet, but firm when he responded. "I don't _want _another owl. I'm fine using the owls at work most days, and it's not a problem to stop at the post office when I need one otherwise. Please leave it alone."

Draco was shocked at the almost angry response, which seemed completely over the top for such a conversation.

"Fine," Draco drawled defensively. "I'll leave it for now, but I think you should consider it. I was planning on getting one now that I'm moving out of the Manor. But _excuse me_ if I was just wondering if there was some pressing concern with _my boyfriend _whom I'm _moving in with _that I should know about."

"I really don't want to talk about it, especially in a restaurant. If you want to get an owl, _fine_, but it'll be _your _owl. Now, I think I'm finished." Harry stood up, throwing some money down onto the table. "Do you mind if I just go on and send off the letter? I think I need a walk by myself for a while. I'll see you back at the house."

He leaned over and gave Draco a perfunctory peck on the cheek, then quickly left the restaurant.

Draco was pissed off, and slightly stunned. That completely changed direction and he didn't understand _why_. If you were getting ready to move in with someone, to _live_ with someone, shouldn't you be privy to knowing everything about them? If they could talk about fucking soul pieces over a year ago without Harry losing his temper, what could possibly be bothering him about a fucking owl? He understood the sadness that came with losing a pet, but Harry's sensitivity around this subject was completely out of line.

Draco paid the bill and left the restaurant. He was somewhat disappointed at the turn the evening had taken after such a lovely day together, though he did his best to hide it. He racked his brain trying to figure out the problem until he realised that he just didn't have enough information. Looking at his watch, he thought that he might still be able to get an answer before returning to Grimmauld Place.

* * *

Draco walked through Diagon Alley, his mood levelling out a bit as he enjoyed the spring evening air. It was warm, but he was still glad he had his jacket. He tended to run cold, as Harry tended to run warm. They were a good match like that.

They were a good match in many ways. He just needed to _understand_.

Seeing his intended destination ahead, he hurried his steps toward Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Unsure who would be working, he knew there'd be some Weasley or other who would be able to help, though he was hoping for George. He always was a little easier to deal with. Honestly, he should have been a Slytherin, that one. His mind worked in ways Draco could understand.

As Draco entered the shop and rolled his eyes at the habitually rude bodily noises sounding the doorbell, he centred in on a tall head of red hair on the other side of a shelf. _Ah. A Weasley, for sure_.

Rounding the end of the aisle, he sighed. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased that he'd have a better source, or irritated that in his current mood, he had to deal with this particular Weasley.

"Ronald. Good evening."

"Mal-uh… I mean, Draco. Hi. Where's Harry? I thought you both were out shopping today."

"We were, but he had to make a stop after dinner. I was wondering if I might have a private word with you." Draco thought for a moment, then sighed. "Please."

Weasley's eyes grew surprised, then suspicious.

"All right. Come on, then. Can I get you a drink or something?" he asked as they entered the back room.

Draco felt awkward, and it was clear that Weasley did, too. Perhaps a drink _would _help. He took a seat uncomfortably.

"Yes, well, that would be fine, I suppose." Draco continued as he watched Weasley grab two bottles of some kind of Muggle fizzy drink from a cooling cupboard. "Listen, tonight Harry and I were talking, and I said something that got him worked up. He doesn't want to talk about it, though, and I was hoping that, well, perhaps you'd help me understand a bit. I don't expect you to tell me any golden trio secrets or anything," Draco sarcastically drawled at Weasley's look, "just help me understand a bit more about what I'm dealing with so that I approach it better next time."

He must have looked slightly desperate because Weasley set down the bottles with a clunk and slumped down into his chair.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Malfoy. What did you say?"

"I just asked him why he wouldn't get another owl!" Draco replied, indignant at the accusation.

Weasley groaned. "Ouch. Yeah, that wouldn't go over well. Well, shit."

"Yes, Shit. Articulate as always, Ronald."

He reminded himself he needed Weasley's help, then continued in a nicer tone. "He immediately got brassed off at a completely innocent question." Draco gave him a level stare. "Why?"

"Okay, see, you have to understand. Hedwig… That was Harry's owl, Hedwig. Anyway, Hedwig was more than his pet. She was his lifeline, his connection to the wizarding world. I can't go into all of it, it's not my place. He'll tell you when he's ready, and honestly, I don't know all of it, that's how much he doesn't _ever _talk about it. But when he wasn't at Hogwarts, Hedwig was the only one there for him, the only one he could talk to. Losing her was probably harder on him than losing Sirius, and that's saying something."

"So, my suggesting replacing her wasn't suggesting replacing a pet."

"No. Definitely not."

"Well, shit."

"Yeah."

* * *

Draco decided to walk back to the house from Diagon Alley, as he needed more time to think. He knew this was something they needed to talk about, and he wanted to give them both the chance to cool down.

Harry never spoke of his childhood and always changed the subject back to Draco's experiences when the topic came up. He didn't seem to mind sharing his Hogwarts stories, or his time with the Weasleys, but it was clear that everything else was off-limits. He didn't want to push Harry, but eventually, if they continued together—and Draco hoped they would—he'd need to know.

Approaching Grimmauld Place, Draco was still deep in his thoughts, though the last of the anger had worn off. He opened the door without thinking, quietly put down his bag and hanging his coat neatly on the hook, then sat down to take off his shoes. He really needed to know what was going on, but he knew pushing Harry never got anyone anywhere.

"Draco?" Harry asked hesitantly from the doorway, then continued, sounding frustrated and uncertain. "Please don't hide behind that damned mask tonight. I'm sorry. I was tired and overreacted. You have every right to ask about this stuff—I just...I don't think I'm ready to talk about it, okay?"

He didn't want to admit it, but it was relief that flooded through Draco, and he wasn't quite sure how to proceed. Looking up, he remembered his conversation with Weasley and decided to let Harry lead.

"It's fine. There's plenty I don't want to talk about, but I do need to understand eventually."

"I know. Really, I do get it. I'm not going to be easy to live with, you know." Harry looked down nervously. "I've got issues, Draco, and you're going to notice them even more than you might have had previously. I just—I hope it's not too much."

Draco approached Harry slowly, lifting his chin, then crushing his lips in a desperate kiss.

"Harry Potter," he muttered against his mouth. "You're too much in so many ways, but we've had this conversation before, haven't we? You're _always_ worth it."

With that, Draco proceeded to plunge deeper into Harry's mouth, pushing him back against the front door.

Harry whimpered, then flipped them around, grinding against Draco and muttered against his lips, "Upstairs. Now." At Draco's groan, Harry grabbed his hand and Apparated them both to his bedroom.

Draco smirked. "Potter, you wicked man. I think you're trying to have your way with me."

"Always," Harry chuckled, going back in for another quick and furious kiss, before stepping back to quickly pull off his shirt so they could get even closer. "Now get your fucking clothes off before I change my mind and vanish them."

"You wouldn't. You know this is my favourite jumper." Draco pouted and quickly stripped down, standing in front of his lover in only his boxers, taking a moment for a pose.

Laughing, Harry threw his own pants at him, then pushed him over onto the bed and crawled on top of him. Lowering his lips to Draco's, he seemed to slow down, happy now to take his time thoroughly exploring Draco's mouth, tasting, nipping, and teasing until Draco couldn't keep from burying his hands into Harry's messy hair. On a moan, he flipped Harry over and took control.

It was always this way with them, a constant battle of control and dominance, speed and leisure—and damn, Draco loved it. They were so perfectly matched—in some ways so much the same, and in others, complimentarily different. In bed, they were never sure who would win the battle, but the excitement of the unexpected was always driving Draco to new heights.

This night, Harry seemed to need comfort, so Draco took his time, savouring his familiar flavour, licking, and caressing every part of his body. All of Harry's sensitive places that Draco had taken the last year to learn received his attention. Little nips on the back of Harry's neck, soft caresses across his stomach muscles, light flicks of his tongue on the back of his knees, all the places that were secret to all but Draco.

Finally, when Harry was writhing in need, Draco gave a long lick of the cock in front of him. The sweet flavour was so familiar now, and the taste of it drove his own excitement as Harry moaned. Taking Harry's full length into his mouth, Draco began to work him with one hand, while reaching behind to begin his preparations there.

Harry had such a delicious arse, and Draco groaned loudly as his fingers found their goal. The hum of Draco's groan in combination with his other ministrations seemed to push Harry even further, so Draco removed his mouth regretfully and concentrated on his other work. Flipping Harry onto his stomach, he reached for the lube and began to work him open. "Fuck," he groaned. "I can't wait much longer. I need you."

Harry grabbed his wand, casting a quick spell that stretched him, preparing him the rest of the way. "Yeah, agreed," Harry laughed in a tight voice.

Draco pulled Harry up into the correct position and plunged. Oh, the feeling was glorious. This moment here, the one before they were both taken away and he could still think clearly, but he felt the joy of joining with Harry? This moment was his favourite. Even more than the climax. If he could just capture the feeling of this moment for the rest of his life, he'd never feel alone again. It didn't matter who was the one on top, he loved this moment.

He realised he must have spoken aloud when Harry chuckled. "Come on! Move! You can wax poetically about it later; I need you to _move_, dammit!"

Obviously, this man didn't deserve him, but perhaps moving was a good idea. He began to move again, plunging deeper with each thrust and... bull's eye. There it was. Harry yelped in pleasure. While not the most sensual of sounds, it was the sound that Draco knew meant that he'd found that glorious little bundle of nerves; prostate seemed such an inconsequential word for such a thing. He chuckled, keeping the angle, and went harder.

Harry's sounds changed to a keen. _Merlin_, he loved those sounds. He should record them and use them when he was in a bad mood. Perhaps… uh, perhaps he should pay attention because Harry was close, and the tightening was making thinking more difficult. Giving in to his pleasure, he reached around to grab Harry, which was the final straw. The change in angle and pressure had Harry careening over the edge, pulling Draco, quite literally, right with him. They held like that for several moments as they both reached their completion, until they both, as if on cue, collapsed.

They laid there, catching their breath, and Harry began to laugh.

"What?"

"You, muttering about capturing moments while buried in my arse. You're an idiot."

"Fuck off, Potter."

"Yes, well," Harry continued, still laughing. "Come here."

Harry grabbed his wand and cleaned them both with a quick charm, then pulled the coverlet back over them both and settled in close. Harry liked to cuddle after, and Draco was not averse to it, even if he liked to grumble to save face.

Harry snuggled in, laying his head on Draco's shoulder. He was very quiet, something clearly on his mind, so Draco just remained silent.

After several minutes, Harry began.

"It's hard, you know? To talk about. If I talk about it, it makes it real. If I don't, then I can think about it only fleetingly, and in very dry terms. Like, it happened, it's done, I've moved on. But if I talk about it, I'll see your reaction, and that'll make it more real. Does that make sense?"

Draco nodded.

"I don't know if I'm ready for that. I don't know if I'll _ever_ be ready for that. But that's not fair to you. You deserve to know, to understand. You deserve to be with someone who's not a coward."

Draco sucked in a breath. "Harry, you have faults like any man, but being a coward is not one of them in any sense of the word. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"But that's the thing. I want you to know. I just... I don't want to say it out loud." He hesitated, and in the silence, Draco heard him whisper, "I'm afraid to."

He paused for a long silence, but again Draco waited.

"When I was a child, I lived with my aunt and her husband, and my cousin Dudley. You've met Dudley, but he's changed a lot since we were kids. They weren't… They weren't nice. Damn, this is hard."

Harry paused again. "Okay, not nice is an understatement. I don't know if you'd consider it abuse; I never did—but if I knew now of a child being treated as I was, I'd be irate and report them immediately." He sighed, staring into the darkness.

"They never beat me, not really. They weren't careful with me, though, and I definitely had my share of bumps and bruises, especially from Dudley who was encouraged to be extra rough. But mostly, they couldn't be bothered."

Draco listened intently, dreading what else he might hear.

"I didn't know any better; I didn't realize anything was wrong until I started school. Before then, I wondered why Dudley had two bedrooms, and there was an empty guest bedroom, but I had to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. It was cold and cramped, and when I was bad, they'd lock me in. I was hungry a lot, as I didn't get as much to eat as I wanted and probably needed." Draco started at that. Cupboard? Hungry? Seriously? But he kept quiet, not wanting to stop the flow of words. He could ask questions later.

"But until I went to school, I thought it was all just normal. It was normal to call the _stray_ they found on their doorstep, their nephew, names like Freak, or Boy, and to never refer to me by name, telling me I was abnormal and unworthy of anything better. I thought it was normal for a five-year-old to learn to do all the chores, scrubbing floors, making breakfast, as it was how I earned my keep. Obviously, Dudley didn't have to, but he had parents and I didn't, so this is how it was."

Draco felt his throat clench at the small boy he was imagining, picturing, scrubbing floors.

"When I started school, I realized that I was different from the other kids, not just different from Dudley. There were a couple of the other kids who lived with people other than their parents, and they had normal clothes and normal chores and were treated like normal kids. I realized that I really _wasn't_ normal, especially when I started noticing strange things happening around me. I know now it was accidental magic, but I had my Aunt telling me that magic wasn't real so often that I thought I was just what they said, a Freak."

At that, Draco made a noise—he couldn't control himself. It was so hard to remain quiet. Luckily, Harry was deep into his head at that point and just went on in a quiet, flat voice.

"When I was bad—when I outperformed Dudley in school, or did some accidental magic, or just looked at them wrong really—they punished me. Their favourite was to just lock me in my cupboard without dinner, but then sometimes they'd forget about me and leave me there all day. No food, no bathroom, just stay there and be quiet. I still really hate cramped places."

Harry took a deep breath and blew it out, and Draco hoped they'd gotten through the worst of it. He wasn't sure how much more he could hear and not interrupt.

"When I was eleven, my Hogwarts letter came. They tried to keep it from me, but eventually, Hogwarts sent Hagrid, and he rescued me. I don't know if he realizes that it was a rescue, but it was, in every sense of the word. He took me away, and he showed me that there were other people like me, that I had somewhere else I could go, and that I wasn't a freak. That day, the day he rescued me, he bought me Hedwig.

"After my letter came, the Dursleys had moved me to my own room, which had been Dudley's second bedroom. It was small, and not well kept, but it was mine and it wasn't a cupboard. It had a full-size bed I could stretch out on, and the best part was that there was a window for Hedwig to be able to come and go. I'd talk to her about what I was reading in the books I bought in Diagon Alley, and she'd listen and coo and cuddle me. It was the first affection I could remember receiving from another living being in my whole life.

"In subsequent summers, I was forced back to that house due to some protection from the blood wards Dumbledore had raised around my aunt. I had to stay there, even when they locked me in that room and fed me through a cat flap in the door and put bars on my window. Hedwig was there with me, and we survived it together. On days she could get out, she'd take letters to my friends, or Sirius, but she always returned as soon as she could. She reminded me that there were people out there that _did_ care about me, that did love me. And she took care of me, as much as an owl could do.

"Hedwig was killed in the fight fleeing my aunt's house right before my seventeenth birthday. There were disguises in place, but they identified me due to her presence, as well as my stupid tendency to favour Expelliarmus. She was in her cage and caught in the crossfire. I still think about that night and wish that I had sent her on ahead to fly without me. Stupid mistake, and it cost me my friend."

Tears quietly dripped onto Draco's chest. It was odd that Harry could talk about all those horrible things happening to him as a child with no tears, but discussing his owl brought them on. He could cry for others, but not for himself. Perhaps Draco would have to do that for him, later, when he wasn't watching.

Draco tightened his arms around Harry, letting him quietly cry, holding back his tears. His throat felt so full. This man who was so strong, _this_ man wanted him. Wanted to be with him, wanted him to live with him, _loved_ him. Draco was in awe.

"You are the strongest person I know. I don't know how you survived what you did, but you are so much better than I ever imagined. How can you have gone through all this, yet still be who you are? I'm… I'm speechless."

Harry looked up at him, eyes wet, and grinned. "Well," he said through his forced smile. "That's a first. Draco Malfoy, speechless. Perhaps I should write to Pansy. She'll let me know if it's a record, I'm sure."

Draco pushed him off in feigned irritation, recognizing that Harry wanted to change the subject. They'd have to talk about it more later, but he realized that they had crossed a huge bridge this evening and didn't want to push it further.

Harry stopped him, though, before he could get up to grab some clothes.

"Draco, I know how you think. Please promise me that you won't do anything about what I've told you. I'm trying to build a friendship with Dudley, and that means I must see my aunt and uncle occasionally. Please don't ever bring this up to them or harass them. If you acknowledge it, if you make them acknowledge it, then it brings it up again and I have to deal with it. Again. It makes it so much worse. I do better just forgetting about it and moving on. Please?"

Draco hesitated, as he had already been forming plans in the back of his mind, even if he hadn't realized it.

"I can't promise never to say something, but I can promise to do my best not to make it worse, and to not do it in front of you. Okay? Because Harry, you are important to me. Not because of what you did for the wizarding world, but because you're you, despite everything you've been through. You deserve someone to speak up on your behalf."

With that, he leaned over to kiss Harry lightly on the forehead, then got up to grab his sleep shirt and pants, tossing a set to Harry.

Movement near the door caught their attention, and Harry had a wand aimed in that direction in a split second. No one could fault the man's reflexes. Well, except for maybe the cat, who was looking at them both in disdain.

"Meow."

"Potter. We're not keeping the cat."

"_Meow_."

"She's hungry. I don't know. I don't like to see things go hungry."

Suddenly Draco understood. Harry identified with the stray. Merlin, that thought hurt.

He looked up at the man in the bed, dark hair, golden skin, beautiful green eyes, and scars both inside and out. Then he looked at the cat and sighed. Maybe he could convince the cat to deliver the post.

"So, what are we naming her?"

* * *

Hermione Granger-Weasley was drinking her morning tea. She enjoyed this quiet hour in the morning before her husband insisted on getting up and making a racket. She couldn't complain too much, as he also baked her lovely cranberry muffins to enjoy with her morning tea, but this hour was golden for her.

An unexpected tawny owl arrived at the window, and Hermione lowered her newspaper. Checking the time, she realized she still had twenty minutes before she had to leave. She rose, grabbed a bit of bacon for the bird, and approached.

The owl hooted happily, in a way that typical post owls do not. Hermione was intrigued. She didn't recognize this owl, and a stranger wouldn't send her post so early in the day, or at home. She patted the bird, its markings reminding her of a tabby cat, and the bird nuzzled her hand. Yes, clearly someone's personal owl.

Taking the bacon from her, the bird stuck out its foot. She removed the letter and was surprised to see the elegant script and seal. It looked so formal.

Hermione opened the letter and smiled.

_You Are Cordially Invited To A  
Housewarming Party_

_At the New Home Of  
Harry and Draco_

_Come Enjoy an Evening of Food, Wine & Music!_

_Saturday, May 21  
5 pm – 11 pm_

_12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London_

_RSVP by return owl by May 14_

There was another note folded inside in Harry's untidy scrawl.

_Hermione, Ron,_

_This is Thalia. She's our new owl, so treat her well. See you Sunday at the Burrow._

_Love, Harry._

Hermione smiled and closed the note. Who would have expected Draco Malfoy would have been the one to help Harry heal? She dashed off her note of acceptance and sent it off with Thalia, then added the date to the calendar. She left the invitation on the table for Ron to find, knowing that it'd put his mind at ease as well. It seemed their friend was happy.

* * *

_The End_

* * *

_**A/N: This story is part of a series: That's Life Together. Links to the other stories in the series **__**IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER**_ _**and more information can be found on my Author Profile. Next Up: Harry and Ted's Excellent Adventures**_


End file.
